


Drowning

by SamJoinedtheReconCorps



Series: A Flame in the Shadows [8]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Developing Friendships, Feelings, M/M, Panic Attacks, Worry, post ep 70, spoilers for ep 97
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamJoinedtheReconCorps/pseuds/SamJoinedtheReconCorps
Summary: After going to the Dungeon of Penance, Caleb finds that he needs some time to think - then, he goes to find Essek.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Series: A Flame in the Shadows [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648909
Comments: 18
Kudos: 158





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> I really fucking clowned myself huh, I published the last part of this series BEFORE i finished ep 98, and then after I finally finished it and in my notes i'd written WIDOFJORD LIVES....i really did fucking clown my whole ass self didn't i
> 
> but alas, that is something for future me to contend with because right now i'm in that death limbo too but i believe in the Nein T.T
> 
> to top it all off, we're still in this SHADOWGAST HELL, but we're gonna make it through fam, we're gonna make it through
> 
> anyway, enough of my incoherent ramblings, I really hope you guys like this fic!!

The walk to the Dungeon of Penance feels much longer than it did the first time around. The guards that escort them are quiet, mechanical, and professional in their task. They only offer small glances at them as they walk, to ensure that they’re following.

Caleb doesn’t mind it much - or maybe, maybe he does, because right now he has retreated into his own mind, terrified of what he’ll find in the prison. Human woman - a human woman. The description is plain, a blank silhouette that could mean anyone and no one, but it is a silhouette that Caleb immediately fills in with her brown hair, the curve of her nose, her severe brown eyes, the birthmark beneath her ear. It is a picture that Caleb is terrified to see clapped in chains.

Going through the prison is much of the same - the same disorienting magic, the same untraceable winding path - but things got darker, and colder, to the point where Caleb found himself shivering.

After a while the guards finally came to a stop, presumably in front of a cell - Caleb can’t see anything in the pitch darkness of the dungeon. He mutters a few words under his breath, focusing on his transmuter’s stone and surprising even himself that he can keep his hands steady enough to complete the somatic elements. He blinks, and, sure enough, he can see now, everything in shades of black and grey. And yet he can’t bring himself to get closer to hole on the prison door.

Fjord must notice his hesitation, because he claps Caleb on the shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze before stepping forward himself.

He sees Fjord peek into the cell, taking in whatever’s inside before he says, “Look at me.”

When there is no response, Fjord glances over his shoulder. “Caleb,” he calls to him quietly.

Taking a shaky deep breath, Caleb steps forward. “What does this woman look like?” he asks.

“Well, she’s had the shit kicked out of her. Hair’s all in her face. Doesn’t look like she’s very comfy,” Fjord reports, blunt in a way that makes it all easier for Caleb to process before he looks in.

He closes his eyes, pulling up whatever dregs of strength he has left before he finally looks inside. The first thing he notices is how perfectly placed in the center she is, with the chair she sits on bolted into the floor of the cell. Her face is turned away, partially to the side, and her arms are chained behind her back with the chain then bolted to the bottom of the chair. Her ankles are similarly chained to the chair legs in the front. Her face is obscured by her hair, but he can see the bruises that stain the skin there. Her clothing and leathers are similarly beaten and bloodied.

Caleb just stares at her before he turns to the guards. “Is light allowed? Is - may I?”

The guards look at each other before one nods at Caleb.

It is almost on reflex the way he summons his  _ dancing lights _ , sending them in through the small opening in the door and illuminating the cell. The woman flinches almost imperceptibly, but aside from that remains unmoving.

And while it is a gamble with the guards present, Caleb finds that he can’t help himself. “ _ Are you awake? _ ” he says, speaking in Zemnian. He allows for only a few of his own heartbeats to fill his personal silence before he commands, “ _ Wake up. You are in a bad place, I need you to talk to me _ .”

The woman clears her throat, and it sounds almost painful.

When she still says nothing, Caleb prompts, “ _ Go ahead. Your life’s thread is very short right now. If you want to keep it from being clipped, I need you to talk to me _ .”

More silence descends, and it makes the shadows thrown by the woman by the  _ dancing lights _ almost seem menacing. Then comes her reedy, exhausted response, “ _ It is what it is. This is what happens in war. _ ”

He immediately tries to place her voice, not recognizing it but she sounds pained - maybe that could be warping her voice? Maybe that could be making it so hard to recognize? He feels the tremors in his hands.

“ _ Can you look at me _ ?” he asks, trying not to plead.

“ _ Who asks _ ?” she responds in turn. “ _ What do you want _ ?”

“ _ You hear me talking to you in this language, in this place. Do you want any aid or not _ ?” Her question, asking about who, makes his heart jackhammer in his chest. “ _ Look at me _ .”

“ _ Magic can do many things, _ ” she replies, still resolutely keeping her hair in her face. “ _ My life is already forfeit. Try what you want, you won’t break me. _ ”

Caleb falls into a silence that suffocates him as his mind races, throwing up question after question to try and just get them to  _ look _ when he just blurts out, “ _ Astrid _ .”

Her head perks up, just the tiniest bit, and Caleb’s heart sinks. “ _ What did you say _ ?” she asks.

His fingernails dig into his palm painfully. “ _ You heard me. Look me in the eye _ .”

She doesn’t look at him, and instead repeats her earlier question, “ _ Who are you _ ?”

Letting out a shaky exhale, he answers, “ _ I don’t have time for that _ .” He feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. “ _ Lift your face. Your life hangs by a thread, what have you to lose _ ?” His voice breaks. “ _ Look at me. _ ”

“ _ Look where I am. Who do I have to trust? _ ” she says simply. “ _ Who is this who knows Astrid _ ?”

Hearing her name makes him snap, and suddenly Frumpkin is inside the room, silently padding over to the Scourger. He’s instantly in Frumpkin’s senses, looking up at the bloodied face, at the swollen lip and bruised chin. Frustratingly, her hair still obscures her face. He sends Frumpkin a little to the side, to see if he could see more of her face from a new angle, but instead he catches sight of her arms, where they’re bound behind her back - he catches sight of the scars that run the length of her forearms.

Caleb blinks back tears furiously as he returns to his own body as he snaps Frumpkin away again, and now his hands go to his own scars as they begin to burn.

“Can you open this door?” Caleb asks, turning to the guards.

The guards exchange a look once more, then one answers with a shake of his head. “I am sorry, that cannot be done.”

Turning back to the Scourger, he doesn’t even hear what Caduceus is asking before Caleb has already said, throwing all caution to the wind as his heart beats itself into an erratic frenzy, “ _ Do you know Bren Aldric Ermendrud _ ?”

“ _ Very well _ ,” the woman answered, not missing a beat.

He feels his throat begin to constrict, but he continues on regardless. “ _ Who was he _ ?”

There’s a beat of silence before she says, “ _ I don’t know. Is he you _ ?” And now she turns, looking right at him.

It’s not Astrid, but that doesn’t make Caleb feel any better. The tears are still in his eyes when he grits out, “ _ We’ll find them both, and kill them _ .”

The woman smiles, cold and cruel. “ _ I’ve heard things about you, Bren. Welcome back. _ ”

Caleb attempts deflection, although he knows it's futile. “ _ I am curious of your knowledge about this boy. We’ll see if you live long enough to tell me. _ ” And with that he turns away, taking a few steps from the door, and leaning heavily against the wall as he sucks in lungfuls of air, feeling like he can’t breathe. Feeling like he’s drowning.

There’s movement behind him, then Fjord’s quiet voice asks, “Caleb, is everything alright? You don’t seem well.” He gives Caleb a few seconds to catch his breath before he tries again, “Do you know this person?”

“She’s a murderer,” he chokes out. “She’s one of my own.” He closes his eyes tightly. “She is me if I had turned out to be me.” If he had remained Bren and never become Caleb.

“Do you know her personally?” he presses, in a way that is almost gentle. In a way that hints that he’s taking his cues from Caleb. “Should - are we -”

“No,” Caleb answers. “No. No - no, she’s one of many.”

“Right,” Fjord nods, and he steps away, giving him space. “Are we done here?”

“I guess so,” Nott replies.

“Is there any other information we can get from her?” Beau asks.

“Do you want to ask her about any of the, uh, people who you used to know?” Nott says to him, speaking quietly. “This is a chance.”

Caleb runs his shaking fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing. He turns back to the door, going to the hole and looking in, but resolutely staring at the far wall and not at her smiling face. “ _ From what I understand, your time is limited. Very limited. Care to contribute anything to the conversation?” _

“ _ Not particularly _ ,” she answers with a shake of her head. “ _ I’m just waiting for my sentence. _ ”

“ _ It has a period on the end _ ,” Caleb tells her, and has already begun to turn away when she speaks again.

“ _ I will say, it’s fascinating to see who’s now working with the other side _ .” Her grin gets wider.

“ _ Some of us get tired of macabre fairy tales, _ ” he spits out. “ _ So you enjoy your mouthful of lies, when they choke it out of you. _ ”

And he walks away, past his friends, falling into step as the guards realize he’s leaving, and it's not until he snaps Frumpkin back, this time to scarf around his neck, that he finally lets the tears fall.

* * *

They’ve walked out, out of the prison and the Shadowshire and back out into the Firmaments. Everyone’s making plans and preparations for their coming travels north, and Caleb vaguely remembers agreeing to teleport Nott and maybe Jester to Nicodranas the following morning.

“I also want to find T-Thelyss before we leave. Sometime before we leave,” he hears himself tell them, and when did Essek simply become Thelyss? When had he reverted to using just his last name?

Jester gives Nott a curious look, and Nott whispers, “Essek.”

“Oh, Essek,” Jester nods.

“Yeah, Essek Thelyss,” Caleb repeats, testing the name on his tongue as if it were foreign.

Giving Caleb another nod, Jester says, “Yeah, well we’re not - I mean, we have to wait til tomorrow, right? Before we can go?”

Caleb sighs out an exhausted, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Jester echoes. “You’ve got time.”

He takes a faltering step forward before he freezes. “I-I’m sorry. I - I, um, I need to clear my head. I -”

“Let’s go back to the treehouse,” Nott suggests.

“I will see you back at the -” Caleb continues.

“Xhorhaus,” both Caleb and Fjord say at the same time, Fjord like a question but Caleb as a statement.

Nott nods, although she watches Caleb worriedly. “Xhorhaus, yes.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he walks away, remembering to bring out his medallion of the Bright Queen to keep himself safe as he walks, but distinctly feeling the weight of his other amulet as it sat against his skin.

* * *

The meeting in the Bright Queen’s throne room lasts for another two hours before it is finally adjourned, and now Essek finds himself in the study that he has within the Lucid Bastion. The reports he looks over are standard fare, and he sifts through them rather quickly, responding to the ones that need a reply and merely taking in the ones that are meant to be informational. Given that he hadn’t done any work the day before, he has a few more pending things to look through than usual, but even those get done quickly.

Once he gets done filing away the last reports he stands, giving a small stretch to loosen his stiff muscles. He figures he might as well go see the chambers that have been converted as the Duendalos’ historians base of operations - he could lend them a hand in their research before heading back home.

Donning his mantle, he steps out, only to see a guard waiting outside his door.

“Yes?” he asks.

The guard stands at attention. “The Empire human requests a word with you, Shadowhand. He is outside the gates.”

It is a simple statement, just conveying information, yet the way he says it, the way he says  _ human _ like an insult makes Essek scowl.

“And why did you not bring him to my chambers?” His voice is cold - not unusual for the Shadowhand, but maybe cold _ er _ than usual.

“Because we wished not to disturb you,” the guard responds, but he sounds uneasy now.

Essek glides out past him. “Well, next time he comes looking for me, do escort him to my chambers. Do not keep him waiting.” He pauses, turning back to the guard. “Understood?”

“Yes, Shadowhand.”

“Excellent.”

They head towards the front gates of the Lucid Bastion, where Essek quickly catches sight of Caleb. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hello,” Essek greets, stepping out of the Bastion. “I heard you’re looking for me.”

“That is correct,” Caleb confirms, inclining his head in a small bow. “Do you have a moment for me?”

“A moment I can spare, yes,” Essek smoothly answers. He looks Caleb over, and now he notices the redness of his eyes, the way his fingers are once again scratching at his coat sleeves. His hair is disheveled - more so than usual - and his cat is draped around his neck like a scarf, nuzzling Caleb beneath the ear as if adamant in comforting him. Something is wrong. “What do you require?”

Caleb drops his gaze. “I’m embarrassed, but, um, I - I have just come from your prisons. The queen granted us the ability to visit the Scourger that you have there.”

Essek nods. “Right, I remember seeing you request this not long ago.” And if Caleb, who has shown himself to have such a keen memory has  _ forgotten _ something that happened mere hours ago, something was  _ really _ wrong. “I -”

“They are marked to die, correct?” Caleb forces himself to get out, looking Essek in the eye.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Essek asks, unsure if he heard that right.

“Execution, I heard execution mentioned,” Caleb says, and he sounds a little agitated? Nervous? Essek can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Right, they are to be executed, yes,” Essek tells him.

Caleb freezes for a second before quietly getting out, “Is there a timetable on that?”

Essek, more to buy himself time than anything else, glances away, as if thinking on that answer. A dozen different things run through his mind, different things that could have happened or been said that have made Caleb so upset. His heart squeezes in his chest, but he can’t find a definite answer.

After a beat, Essek finally says, “Not entirely certain. I think they’re to continue interrogation for at least a few more days before they, uh, deem them of no further interest. So.”

“I - I am just hoping you could stick to that timeline,” he averts his gaze for a second before it's back on Essek full force, and the sadness is there, and Essek wonders if Caleb recognizes the look in his own eyes. “I know it's a foolish request, but, um, you have some idea of my past, yeah?”

“Um,” Essek oh so eloquently starts. He only knows the brief bit that Caleb has spoken of in front of the court. Everything else is conjecture based on the things he has seen, like the similar scars Caleb and the Scourger share. “A fraction, maybe.”

Caleb’s hands clench in his coat sleeves before he shoves them into his pockets. Essek feels a breath of relief to see him keep from the nervous scratching.

“I was once on a path to - to be one of these,” he admits, and although Essek already knows this, hearing it from Caleb now, when they are alone, feels different. “And I thought there was a chance that I might have known this one.”

“Interesting,” Essek says, because it's the only thing he feels like he can say that is honest while not betraying too much. “Are you telling me you were a Scourger?”

“No, no,” Caleb tells him, shaking his head. A shadow passes over his face, like a shroud, before it disappears. “No,” he repeats, softer this time. “I know about them a little bit.”

“Right, right,” Essek nods, allowing him to continue.

“I thought that this one, while the chances were slim, I thought this one might be a person that I came up with, in the Empire,” he rushes out, and he says it with a smile - but it's all wrong, it's fake, it's a mask to hide whatever pain is churning beneath. “Or knew something about, and perhaps they could be useful for my dealings with your queen.” The mask slips as he begins to frown. “And I was incorrect. It caught me off guard.” He shakes his head, looking away. “Frankly, it would have caught me off guard if it was the individual I thought it was, possibly.”

“Well -” Essek tries to say, but Caleb is coming apart, the words flowing out of him unprompted and shaky.

“But, um, I would like to speak to them further but I have an, uh, errand to run and I just don’t want to miss my window and I need to get my thoughts in order and -” He’s looking at Essek, and he’s apologetic, suddenly shy, as if expecting Essek to scoff or brush him aside. “Sometimes I’m like this, I like to have order, and don’t we all. I just need a bit more time.”

“So are you requesting, ah, requesting that we not accelerate this timetable, if I’m to understand?” Essek asks, for clarity’s sake.

“Yes, I thought it might be as early as this evening or tomorrow morning but it sounds like I have a few days,” Caleb finishes.

This could be dangerous, and Essek knows it. The sooner the Scourger is dead, the safer Essek is - but then he’s nodding, saying, “I’ll see what I can do.” Because honestly, how could he say no to this man with his bright blue eyes so filled with sadness and his shaking hands that grow so steady when he uses magic? How could he ever say no to Caleb Widogast?

“I - I would very much like to speak with this person again - even in your presence, if that makes it more conducive,” Caleb says.

Essek gives him another nod, already thinking about how to best phrase the request if the timetable changes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Caleb holds his gaze for a heartbeat that feels eternal, and Essek is drowning in those eyes. He’s never wanted to drown more.

“Thanks - and I don’t want to push my luck, I appreciate your help,” Caleb gets out, and he sounds genuinely grateful, if still a little nervous and jumpy.

“Of course,” Essek answers, and before Essek can say anything stupid - before he can do anything stupid like reach out and ask what’s wrong - he rushes out, “I have to get back to business, if you don’t mind.”

Even though it looks like Caleb might have more to say, he nods. “Certainly.” He releases a breath, ducking his head before meeting Essek’s gaze again. “And, thank you.”

Essek holds his gaze, then says, “Light be with you,” and finds that he means it. If the Luxon is real, if it would ever listen to the prayer of a selfish sinner like him, he hopes it's this one. He turns around, leaving Caleb at the door, forcing himself to keep going and not turn around.

He knows he’s treading dangerously, getting so close to these people, to  _ Caleb _ , keeping this Scourger alive,  _ for _ Caleb. He knows that if he is found out, he will most certainly be the next executed, right after the Scourger.

And if it comes to that, Essek allows himself to think, he hopes that he may choose to drown.

**Author's Note:**

> firstly, as I was writing this fic and rewatching the scene to get it right, as soon as the Scourger said "It's fascinating to see who's now working with the other side" my brain went into CODE RED MODE and I immediately just fucking - DID SHE BY ANY CHANCE KNOW ABOUT ESSEK??? WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT MERCER I HAVE QUESTIONS AND YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WITH ANSWERS
> 
> i did enjoy writing an annoyed Essek with that guard. Like idk Essek being pissed that someone's talking shit about his wizard has me some kind of way
> 
> anyway, thank you guys so much for reading and for all the lovely comments that you keep dropping!! I really hope you guys liked this fic, and I'll see you soon!!
> 
> this fic was inspired by:  
> Causatum | Critical Role | Campaign 2, Episode 70 - 3:00:00 - 3:15:00, 3:24:00 - 3:30:00


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